Immortal Folly
by Try to Remember
Summary: Aerrol believed he could create life anew. He paid the ultimate price for his arrogance.
1. I

"That's not right."  
"How about now?"  
A deep sigh, then, "That's not right, either."  
"Should I.."  
Aerrol laid his head down on the polished wooden table before him, one arm acting as a pillow atop the hard surface. "I've had about all I can bear today, Iaden," the blond man said softly, more than a hint of defeat in his tone. "Let's try again tomorrow, when the wounds of the day's constant failures aren't so fresh."  
Iaden nodded in understanding. Bowing respectfully to her employer, she deposited her research journal back into her cube and waved away her spirit companion. Instantly, the living embers dissolved into a mist, the laboratory's temperature dropping to a milder temperature almost immediately afterward. "Until tomorrow, then, Lord Queenston," the woman said, turning to take her leave.  
"Azphelumbra, Iaden," Aerrol grumbled. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed about the otherwise silent lab, followed by the sound of the door closing. He was alone now, his only company the various parchments upon which Iaden had scribed the day's happenings. The sheets of paper littered every conceivable surface, from the very table he rested his head to the shelves of assorted herbs and minerals and even the floor about him. Raising his head slowly, he cast a disdainful glance about at them. A bunch of rubbish they'd turned out to be. He'd begun the day with such enthusiasm; after days upon days of failure, he thought he'd finally analyzed the alchemical composition of the human body well enough to replicate one. As per usual, though, his results had been disappointing at best.  
It baffled him; how could a body be so difficult to create? The more puerile of minds could manage it through procreation. Shouldn't he, with an intellect sharp enough to rival that of his father's, possess the ability to assemble one through less natural means? It wasn't as if the body itself was anything difficult to comprehend; bones, muscle, tissue and flesh to structure and hold it all together. Veins and arteries to transport the blood throughout it. A heart and brain to keep everything running smoothly. As he continued through his mental checklist of the components making up the body, Aerrol couldn't help but grow the slightest bit more frustrated. It was clear he understood what was necessary. Hell, he'd been over it a thousand times it seemed, both on paper and in his mind. He knew every bone, every joint by heart.  
To make matters worse, his lack of results had brought his research on souls to a grinding halt. Without a body to place the soul in, he couldn't begin working on manufacturing one. What if he succeeded? He'd have a living soul in his hands with nothing to put it into, a cruelty beyond the darkest reaches of his imagination. Furthermore, without a body he'd never see how the soul behaved. Whether it would function the same as a normal person's or revert to some sort of feral being. Whether it would be born knowing how to speak or if it would be the same as raising a child and simply skipping the younger phases of its life straight to adulthood.  
It had been three months since he'd hired Iaden. Three months since he'd formally begun his experiments, leaving the theorycrafting stage behind and delving right into the experimental portion. Three months of constant failures. Of seeing his ideas shot down all around him as if he were using them as targets to practice his archery on. One by one, each of the hypotheses he'd dreamed up over the years had failed him. He'd begun to question his own intelligence as of late. It occurred to him that perhaps he'd been giving himself far too much credit and wasn't nearly as great a mind as he'd come to believe. Surely, one boasting superb intellect would have long since solved his own riddles.  
Shaking his lingering self-doubt from his mind, Aerrol rose to his feet and begun to collect the disproven research notes. He'd have plenty to feed his fireplace with that evening at the very least.


	2. II

Aerrol's Laboratory, Vol. II (Roughly two months before joining the Order)

As fate would have it, sugar, spice, and everything nice were not at all the ingredients necessary to create females. The recipe was the same for women as for men when it came down to components that made up a human's form; calcium, carbon, chlorine, hydrogen, iron, magnesium, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, sulfur and, of course, water. It had taken him nearly a year of extensive trial and error, of hypothesizing and re-drafting his previous theories to fit with the new information he'd learned. A year of frustration and struggle, but with Iaden's help he had finally done it.  
A sense of joy he'd never felt before surged through him the moment his experimentation finally payed off. The blond man removed the protective goggles from his eyes, a look of disbelief evident on his face. He turned to his assistant slowly, his shock mirroring hers almost perfectly, then back to the body lying where the mass of chemicals he'd set out had been only moments before.  
"Iaden, am I seeing things?" he asked quickly. "Have I finally gone mad?"  
The silver-haired woman shook her head. "I do not believe so. If you have, it's a madness shared by the both of us." A pause then, "I think we've finally done it, Lord Queenston."  
Aerrol strode forward apprehensively, afraid that the body before him was simply a mirage brought on by the fumes of all the chemicals around them. One hand reached out to touch it, and a gasp fell from his lips. "D-dear Azphel, Iaden! We've truly done it!" The lanky man rose to his feet once more. With the grace of a Silver Granker, Aerrol dashed toward Iaden, his usual stoic veneer missing, replaced with elation the likes of which he never knew himself capable of. He hugged her happily before speaking once more. "I couldn't have done it without your help. Thank you, Iaden," he said gratefully.  
Iaden smiled and returned her employer's embrace briefly. "No thanks are necessary; it's what I'm here for." The gesture concluded as quickly as it had begun and both of them took a step apart from one another, returning to the professionalism they were both so used to. "This is only the first step though, Lord Queenston. This experiment was merely the precursor, if you will, to the true nature of our study. A momentous occasion indeed, but we've still much work to do. What good is a body without a soul, after all?"  
The young nobleman noddedin agreement. "Indeed. Much remains unfinished, but surely you would not object to spending the rest of the evening in celebration?" A smile, and then, "All work and no play makes Iaden a dull girl."  
It was rare for Iaden to see her employer in such high spirits, and even rarer she heard him jest. In fact, she could count all the times he'd teased her in a friendly manner on one finger. She couldn't help but feel that it would be foolish to not take the man up on his offer. "I would hate to bore you then, if that's the case," she said with a smile of her own.  
"Dinner in Pandaemonium and drinks at the Apellbine? My treat, of course."  
Iaden grinned a bit more. "Lord Queenston, are you asking me on a date?" she joked. She knew well of Aerrol's relationship with Drestiel and his lack of romantic interest in women. It was simply too good a chance for the joke to pass up.  
Aerrol laughed and removed his goggles from their resting place atop his head, setting them down instead on the table beside Iaden's research journal. "Very funny, Ellenthos," he replied. He'd never used called her by her surname before; it sounded a bit strange coming from his lips. Grabbing his coat from the rack in the far corner of the room, his dimly red eyes fell onto the form of the artificial body they'd created once more. "I'll have a servant bury this by the time we return," he said. "It wouldn't do to have an inanimate body decomposing in the lab."  
Iaden couldn't help but nod her agreement.


	3. III

Aerrol's Laboratory, Vol. III

Souls, as it turned out, weren't quite as hard as bodies. It had all started with a recommendation from Iaden.  
"Lord Queenston, have you ever heard of the place known as Beluslan?"  
Aerrol looked up from his lab notes slowly. "I believe so. Why do you ask?"  
Iaden stopped scribbling in her journal for a moment to speak once more. "I've heard from a few colleagues of mine that in its far northern area there's a region where many of the Reanimated walk."  
The blond lord perked an eyebrow. "Reanimated? You mean the undead?"  
Iaden nodded. "Indeed."  
"Your point?" he asked shortly, his gaze returning to the parchment before him.  
"Our research on souls is indeed progressing rapidly, but we still lack a basic foundation for manufacturing one ourselves. Perhaps you could pay a it a visit."  
"That's a great idea," Aerrol mused. "Why don't you go in my stead? Things like this are what you're paid to do, after all."  
"You must believe me that had I the ability to go, I would. However, the Fellwings have been summoned to Reshanta to reduce Balaur numbers. They've been surging in recent times, you see."  
Aerrol slapped a hand to his forehead. "Ah, that's right. Pardon me. I've almost made a habit of forgetting that you work amongst the Fellwings as well. Yes, yes, that's right. Drestiel mentioned that he'd be gone a few days for that exact reason."  
Iaden smiled. Drestiel was the first friend she'd made after joining the Fellwings. Had he not spoken of his lover and his studies in creating life anew, and had she not mentioned that she was in possession of nearly forty years experience in the lab, it stood to reason that she'd never have been hired by Aerrol at all. In fact, they probably wouldn't have met. She and Drestiel would've continued to fight side by side against the Balaur, and Aerrol would've continued his studies alone. She was glad things had worked out as they had. Without the generous wages she received from Aerrol she wouldn't have been able to afford the costly medicine her sick human mother needed. While it was true that the woman's near-death condition had improved and she was as healthy as ever, Iaden still stuck around with Aerrol. Not because she needed the money any more, but because she had come to care for the man over the year and a quarter they'd known one another. As serious and stoic as he may be, he had endeared himself to her with his insatiable drive to achieve his goals. She held a great deal of respect for him, and there was no doubt in her mind that the feeling was mututal.  
"No need to apologize, my lord. Perhaps you should tattoo a reminder of my status on the back of your hand. You'd see it often enough, what with all the time you spend holding quills."  
Aerrol smiled wryly and waved a hand dismissively at her. "Shoo, you. Get to Reshanta, don't keep your comrades waiting. I'll investigate Beluslan when I'm finished with this."  
Iaden slipped her journal away and rose to her feet. "I shall see you in a few days then, Lord Queenston."  
"You'd better," Aerrol replied. "Don't get yourself hurt out there. I won't stand for the news that my assistant fell to one of those scaly oafs."  
Iaden smiled back warmly. It always warmed her heart to hear that he cared about her as well. "Until we meet again, Lord Queenston." With that, she turned and took her leave.

"Dear Azphel, no one told me it would be this cold," Aerrol murmured softly to himself. Ever since he was young, the young lord had always loved the snow. Nothing had excited him more than running into the freshly-fallen white blankets covering his family's estate and playing amid it until he simply couldn't bear the chill any longer. Though he no longer enjoyed throwing snowballs, the red-eyed man still loved the aesthetics of the stuff. He admired it between glances at the map he'd paid one of Beluslan's fortress guards to draft him. It wouldn't do to get lost in such dangerous territory, what with the Elyos running amok. His bow close at hand across his back, the man trudged onward past the hordes of earthen spirits to the small expanse he was looking for.  
"This must be the place," he mused as a living skeleton strode aimlessly past him. Crouching into an optimal sniping position, Aerrol drew notched an arrow, drew back the string of his bow, and fired. His aim was true; the arrow shot past the skeleton, instead finding its mark in the head of a nearby zombie. Addled by the sudden trauma, the creature didn't have the chance to respond violently before another arrow struck it just below the first, effectively destroying the remainder of the beasts's brain. The zombie slumped over, dead once more. Aerrol was about to crawl from his hiding spot when a familiar female voice emanating from his Telematrix caught his attention.  
"Good morning, Aerrol. How does the day find you?" asked Keylaa, the Lady Chancellor of the Order herself.  
"Quite well, my lady; A beautiful snow falls over Beluslan," he replied. His eyes glanced about at the Reanimated about him, looking for any hint of realization that there was a living being among them. Satisfied with their oblivousness, he allowed himself to sit a moment.  
"Beluslan?" the noblewoman asked. "What brought you there?"  
"I heard rumors of an area positively teeming with the Undead," came his answer. "I thought the residual traces of souls allowing their Reanimation could help my research."  
"Not the most desirable course of action, but I suppose it could be helpful," the Lady said, concluding their brief interaction.  
Aerrol rose to his feet and slid down the small incline he'd been resting atop. Iaden had been spot-on with her assumption that the undeads were indeed in possession of slivers of their former souls. The lord waved his hand over the zombie he'd felled, drawing that fragment of soul from within it, the ethereal blue matter finding its home in the large bottle he directed it into. He stoppered it, deposited it back into his cube, and notched another arrow. This was going to be a long day.


	4. IV

Aerrol's Laboratory, Vol. IV

"Nervous?"  
Nervous was an understatement. Iaden was no expert on souls. She was a combatant and a researcher. She fought amongst the ranks of the Fellwings with her spiritual companions at her side whenever it was asked of her, and bridging those days she assisted Aerrol in his work. Not one day in her fifty-six years of Daevahood had she ever sat down to formally learn the intricacies of the soul. Her knowledge was, in every sense, limited, and her employer knew this. She understood soulbinding in theory, but that was as deep as her experience with it ran. Never before had she bound a soul to anything; with the creation of the soul they'd made came her maiden binding attempt.  
Piecing the soul together had been a task in itself. The fragments of souls Aerrol had extracted from the undead in Beluslan could easily cohabitate in the same space, but there was nothing merging them into one. They merely traipsed about, hundreds of individual shards that seemed to be missing one vital component. It had been Iaden herself that came up with the catalyst. Greater Elemental Stones. The white orbs seemed linked with the zombies just as much as the souls had been. Within each dissected corpse, a small stone resided. The silver-haired Daeva had proposed the idea of transmuting the stones with the souls, allowing the Aether within them to act as the catalyst that would tie all the fragments together. Aerrol did as the woman suggested, and thus had they given birth to their first soul.  
The binding of the soul to one of the artifically created bodies would mark a major milestone in their research, should it succeed. It would prove that souls could indeed be bound to entirely artifical bodies and give them life anew. They hadn't created the soul from scratch, but doing so would take years of research and, more than likely, just as long to perfect the method. What if they'd spent all that time creating a soul only to find out that it simply couldn't be bound to a body? It was better to use the makeshift soul they'd crafted first. That way, they could tell right then and there whether continuing their studies would have any merit.  
"A bit, my lord," Iaden replied.  
Aerrol clapped a supportive hand on her shoulder and gave her a friendly smile. "I am as well."  
"Just think," Iaden began, "this one experiment will define everything we've done to date. Whether there's fruit to be bore from our studies or if it all ends here."  
"A nervewracking concept indeed," Aerrol said softly. "But a necessary step that must be taken."  
Iaden inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Are we ready to begin then, Lord Queenston?" asked the woman meekly.  
Aerrol nodded. "Whenever you're ready."  
Carefully, as if it were glass, the Spiritmaster plucked the soulstone they'd assembled from within the bowl of elemental water they'd kept it in. Trepidation flooded her as she slowly approached the body they'd decided to use for the experiment. Aerrol had made two of them; one male, one female. They agreed that it was best to have a spare husk, should something in the binding process go wrong with the first. That way, their time wouldn't be wasted in crafting a new body, and they could simply move on to the other one and continue. Iaden turned to Aerrol slowly, their eyes meeting briefly before his reassuring nod coaxed her into continuing. Another deep breath, and then she began.  
Aerrol watched from the opposite side of the table the body resided upon. Yellow and blue Aetheric light filled the air as the soul descended slowly towards the husk. The soulstone slipped through the woman's chest as if she weren't physical and the body began to violently convulse. Both researchers took a single step back, awe evident on both their faces as, before their very eyes, the body jerked and spasmed like a fish out of water.  
"Is this how it's supposed to happen!" Iaden yelled over the din of the rattling table.  
"I-I'm not sure!" Aerrol shouted in response.  
After what seemed minutes of convlusions, the body began to relax. A gasp fell from the lips of both Aerrol and Iaden as, with utter elation, they watched the woman's eyes open.  
"It works!" Aerrol shouted. Further words failed him. He observed the woman in stunned silence as she sat up, her red eyes taking in her surroundings curiously. Her gaze was akin to that of a newborn animal receiving its first gaze at the world after living closed-lidded since birth. Iaden was just as surprised. She looked from Aerrol to the woman and back to Aerrol before finally speaking.  
"I...I can hardly believe it," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. "It...It really worked...She's really alive."  
"Dhallke," said the young lord quietly. "Her name shall be Dhallke. It seems as good a name for our subject as any." Clearing his throat, the blond spoke a bit louder this time, his words directed at Dhallke. "Can you understand me?"  
Dhallke looked at him curiously. What the hell was he? What the hell was -she-? What was anything? Such confusion and fear surged through her that it was almost unbearable. Nothing made sense; it felt as if a hundred voices were speaking at once within her head. What was going on? She had no idea what was happening. All she knew was that she was in horrid pain, and she was bloody terrified. Her eyes fell onto Iaden's next. Who was this woman? Had she done something to her that was causing her this great pain? Had he? Had she been used as some sort of test subject for some grim experiment? A new disease, perhaps, that destroyed the carrier from the inside out by making them feel as though their head were being torn in two until they simply couldn't bear it anymore? Why couldn't she remember anything? Why was everything so hard to understand?  
She had to get out. There was simply no way she could stay there any longer and wait for the pain to stop, because she knew deep inside that it wouldn't end. Not now. Not ever. Her fear gave way to her more feral instincts, and that was when the luck of the two researchers changed forevermore. They watched in horror as Dhallke leapt to her feet with a strangely animalistic grace and crouched into a stance resembling the one the very zombies Aerrol had fought stood in when they were ready to attack.  
"Dhallke, desist," Aerrol commanded firmly, a hint of fear evident in his tone.  
"Aerrol," Iaden began, but the man waved a hand to silence her.  
Moving as quickly as he could without frightening her, the young Queenston lord grabbed his bow from where it rested against the wall and held it firmly in his hand, his quiver already strapped to his thigh. "Dhallke, I order you to stand down. Sit on that table and stay still," he commanded.  
His words were wasted. They'd created a beast in a human's body. Before either of them could react, Dhallke had leapt, pouncing on Aerrol before the unfortunate man had time to ready an arrow. Knocking him to the ground, she sat straddled across his midsection, her sharp talons tearing into his chest and neck region. He struggled against her, but she was simply too feral. Without his bow he was nearly incapable of battle, and without a knife or sword to substitute for it he was done for. By the time Iaden had summoned her spirit and forcibly struck the woman from atop him the damage was done. He lay there bleeding, dying, gasping for breath around his torn throat.  
"Aerrol!" Iaden cried as she took in the grim scene. Hatred coursed through her, red-hot and unrelenting. "I will -kill- you, you disgusting beast!" she shrieked. "BURN!" Her Flame Spirit companion obliged, immolating the beastly woman. She cried out as she burned, but her suffering was soon ended. A charred corpse was all that remained of her after mere seconds. She would've loved to smirk in dark satisfaction, but she hadn't the time to gloat. Aerrol was dying before her, and there wasn't a soul healer for miles. With no one to resurrect him, his spirit would soon be lost. How would she explain to Drestiel what had happened? She couldn't, she wouldn't bring him the horrid news that his lover had died as a result of his studies. It would break his heart. She had to do something, and quick.  
Binding a false soul to a body was one thing, but taking a living soul from within its shell and transplanting it to another was something she'd never dreamed of doing. Time was against her as she began extracting Aerrol's soul. He was fading fast, his eyes growing glassier with each passing second. A sweat had broken across her brow from the strain she felt. She drew all she could until there was nothing left to extract and hauled herself to her feet. She was fatigued from the hour's events and nearly gave way to exhaustion before she'd reached the spare body they'd created for the experiment. With the last of her strength she repeated the same process she'd gone through with Dhallke's creation, inserting her employer's soul into the body.  
Just as Dhallke had before, the body began to convluse. Iaden smiled weakly before unconsciousness claimed her.


	5. V

Aerrol's Laboratory Vol. V (Current time)

"Oh, good, you're awake."  
Iaden groaned sleepily and rubbed her eyes. Moonlight filtered into the small room through the barely parted curtains. She recognized the place well; it was Aerrol's bedroom. She lied in his bed, still dressed in the robes she'd been wearing before, but the man in the chair beside her wasn't him. The memories of what had occurred came flooding back abruptly as she looked into the man's face, realizing it to be that of the body she'd bound the blond lord's soul within.  
"A-Aerrol?" she asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"  
"Is that really my name?" the man asked, the corners of his mouth turning downward into a frown. "That's such a dumb name. It sounds too much like 'Arrow'."  
"Are you playing a joke on me?" Iaden queried.  
"No, I really have no idea what the hell my name is," the man answered sincerely. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."  
"Do you have any idea who you are or where you've come from?"  
The man shook his head. "Nah. I just kind of woke up naked on a steel table and you were passed out next to it. That's about as far back as my memory goes."  
"Perhaps you have Amnesia," mused the Spiritmaster.  
The man shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows. I'm just glad you're up; you had me worried for a while."  
"How long was I asleep?" Iaden asked, one hand brushing her hair from her eyes.  
"Uh, four days, I think," the man answered. "What's your name, anyhow?"  
"Iaden," she answered. "Iaden Ellethos."  
"Iaden?" the man smiled. "That's a pretty name! I didn't really have a name, so I picked Thaynne for myself. It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended a hand toward her which she shook gently.  
"Thaynne, then," she said with a wry smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Iaden had spent the rest of the night in Thaynne's company informing him of the events that led to his creation. At first he was skeptical, but at her mention of a charred corpse and a thin man's body with the throat torn out his disbelief changed. He'd seen them himself when carrying her from the lab to Aerrol's bedroom, and though he'd buried them days ago he couldn't help but wonder what was up with them. It was during their conversation that Iaden realized what must've happened; an amatuer in soulbinding, she concluded that her lack of experience must have led to her damaging her former employer's soul in the process of extracting and supplanting it. Thaynne, she reasoned, was the result of the fracture to his soul.  
They shared certain traits in common; both men loved sweets and the colours of trees' leaves. Both seemed to have a fondness for birds. But they were very, very different in many ways. Aerrol was so serious all the time, and Thaynne was nearly his opposite. He liked smiling and laughing, and he seemed to be much more open with his feelings than Aerrol had ever been. Thaynne lacked Aerrol's knowledge of alchemy and science, and he'd never been a nobleman before. He simply lived as he wanted with no obligations to anything or anyone. After all, he didn't have anything or anyone in the world. But instead of being sad about it, he seemed to enjoy it; he'd even told her, "I don't really have a purpose, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy life."  
Iaden had asked Thaynne to accompany her to the Fellwings Headquarters in Pandaemonium, where she told Drestiel of what had happened. Drestiel was griefstricken at first, but he seemed to relax quite a bit after speaking to the black-haired Sorcerer. He saw a lot of Aerrol in him, and the two became quick friends. The romantic feelings the cleric had for the late lord still prevailed, but he felt nothing outside the realm of the platonic for Thaynne.  
"He's not Aerrol," the man said. "But Aerrol lives on through him."

Iaden knew of Aerrol's ties to the Order. She had heard rumors about them, the great gathering of researchers and their guardians that composed the well-respected group. She'd listened as her employer spoke of Keylaa, the way he described her wisdom and intellect betraying his deep respect for her. She couldn't simply leave her in the dark about what had befallen the young man; he would've wanted her to write to her. And so, Iaden sat down at the table before her, the other patrons of the Apellbine paying her no mind as she scribed a letter to Lady Chancellor of the Aetheric Order.


End file.
